Leave Them Alone and They Will Find Home
by MissJaneInTheSun
Summary: FairyQueen. When Tinkerbell throws pixie dust to find Regina's true love the results make her sneeze. Is her revelation a distressing end to a beautiful friendship, or are the two of them strong enough to make it the beginning of something more? Rated M for a later chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Leave Them Alone and They Will Find Home**

She sneezed.

Then again.

It was the sort of whole-body sneeze that the shook the fairy's tiny body and knocked her sideways amongst the moss and grass where she was sitting on the forest floor.

Scowling, she sat back up, recrossed her legs, shook her head - and sneezed yet again. This time the force of the sneeze made the pixie dust that had slowly come to rest in her lap fly back up into her face and set off the whole sneezing cycle again.

"Bloody hell," she said, because this was Tinkerbell, not some ordinary fairy. "Not _me_, you stupid dust. I said, _find Queen Regina's True Love_."

When the pixie dust didn't seem to respond Tinkerbell swore under her breath again and began to scoop what was left of it into a leather pouch.

It was a perfect, calm spring day in the forest. Everything that should be green was a sort of soft, translucent green of spring, and everything that should be scurrying was, but with the occasional pause to sniff at the scent of blossom and growth. In the midst of it all a scowling Tinkerbell got up off the ground and, returning to human size, shook her wings and began the walk back towards the tavern. It was more fairy like to flit up into a branch and brood there. But lately Tinkerbell had enjoyed the soothing properties of a tankard of ale over a spring breeze, and the company of a certain human queen over the prattling of forest creatures.

The ale was good and the afternoon was warm. Tinkerbell sat at one end of a bench and stretched her full human-sized legs out in the sun. Despite the pleasantness of the situation her mood didn't lift. The pixie dust was crazy precious stuff and it was _meant_ to _work_. Not only that, but she was _relying_ on it to work. Who knew what that Blue Fairy would do if she found out it had been wasted. The more she drank, the less upright she sat, until her feet were back under the table and she was hunched over her third (or fourth, or fifth) drink.

The glower on her face was enough to keep most people away from her. But not everyone.

"What's wrong, Fairy?" A body slid onto the bench beside her. "Where's your other half?"

The fairy turned her head slightly, just enough to see that it was the Cricket. Tinkerbell gave him the sort of look that a talking Cricket deserved, but it didn't stop him prattling.

"I haven't seen you alone for so long, I'd forgotten you and the Queen weren't joined at the hip."

"Don't mention her. Don't talk to me. And don't call me a fairy. I'm a terrible fairy."

Maybe the Cricket wasn't as insensitive as he sometimes appeared, because rather than replying immediately he signalled to a waitress to bring the two of them another drink, then spoke softly, "Don't mind me, but you don't seem the wallowing type. More the go out and grab your problems by the horns and kick them into shape type."

"Yeah, well sometimes you kick a gift horse in the mouth and it gives you sour milk or –" here she hiccupped. "Oh, I don't know any more, okay! I told you to go away. _Bug_."

As Tink tried to put her head down on the table she knocked her half empty cup. It rolled across the table's uneven surface and landed with a small thud on the dirt next to quite a pile of others. Tink looked up from the evidence of her misspent afternoon, "And don't tell me to lay off the ale. I know what I'm doing."

"You might know what you're doing, but I doubt that Blue does."

"Oh please. If I ignore you will you go away?"

Jiminy lowered his voice, "I'm trying to help, Tink."

"Well I don't need a fairy godmother to help me. _I'm_ a fairy. _I_ help people. Even if I've totally, totally fucked up, that's who am and what I want to do." She closed her eyes and hoped that the town's unofficial busybody would get the hint.

Okay. Okay. That was better. Now with her head nice and fuzzy and her eyes closed she could think forget about what had happened with the pixie dust earlier that day.

Really it was a simple, simple exercise. It was the pixie dust that was complicated, not the using of it. Plus Tink had had lessons on its use for years now. She might not have handled it before until this morning, but she was certain that all one had to do was through it up in the air, breathe on it gently and let it know what it was that you wanted. She'd done that. She'd done that perfectly! Despite the Blue Fairy's ongoing instance that she had had multiple chances, she wasn't generally bad at the magic stuff, it was just the discipline stuff that she struggled with at times.

And, oh, all she'd wanted was to make Regina happy. Now she couldn't. And she'd get banished and lose her wings and she'd never see Regina again and - !

The misery and alcohol combination caused her to finally give in, lay her head on the table and sob. The Cricket looked about, completely uncertain at what to do in the situation, and scuttled away.

When Regina arrived a few minutes later she recognised her friend's form from back at the edge of the forest. During the last few weeks she'd come to look forward to this semi-regular escape from the confines of the castle when a happy, bubbly, shiny fairy would be looking out for _her_, and catch _her _eye and call _her _name and want nothing at all in return. Alone, wandering the halls of the castle, or watching Snow sew and talk to birds and all the other things that filled her day, Regina found her mind here in the sunshine with Tinkerbell. It didn't matter that all they did was sit and talk and drink, it was fulfilling in a way that Regina wasn't sure she'd ever experienced before. Or not since Daniel.

This afternoon however Tink wasn't a little ball of sunshine, but more a ball of snot. She was sitting at their usual table but had her head down amongst a collection of empty mugs.

Regina's instinct was to retreat back into the forest before she was seen. However Tink seemed to have a sixth sense and raised her head as Regina approached.

One thing that Regina had never quite got used to with her new friend was her physicality. Tinkerbell often leapt onto her bed, or touched and leant forward and grinned with their faces almost touching. She had no reservations about appropriate deportment or personal space or even deferring to status. Now, for the first time Regina was approaching her. She sat beside the fairy, who immediately turned to bury herself in Regina's arms, so that the queen wasn't able to move away from the very real physical presence of her friend even if she'd wanted to. She held on tight, and she felt the fairy's sobs calm and she felt their breathing beginning to align. As Tinkerbell ruffled her head in Regina's neck Regina felt Tink's hair soft and damp. She moved her arms so that they actually pulled Tink closer to her and resting her own face on the top of Tink's head Regina realised that this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Until now Regina had been subconsciously looking for someone to save and protect _her_. If she had had fantasies in the darkest hours of the night then they were about Daniel coming and scooping her up onto his horse and taking her away to somewhere where no one else would ever find them. Daniel would hunt for food for them, and he'd fight off any wild creatures. When she was scared Daniel would hold her just as she was now holding Tink.

Now, with Tink, being brave and strong didn't feel as overwhelming as it normally did. Normally when Regina thought of braveness and strength she thought of the times she'd lain in the King's bed and not given in to the temptation to cry. She thought of the times that her mother had tied her up and seemingly forgotten her, and Regina had eaten crumbs brought to her by mice. When she thought of strength she thought of ruling in a way that meant that no one, not one person, would ever see any sort of softness in her, because love was weakness and weakness was to be avoided at all costs.

"What's wrong," asked Regina finally (in a voice that she had once dreamt that her mother might use with her). "What's wrong?" Tink pulled herself back from Regina enough that the queen could wipe her hair from her eyes for her,

"I tried to use pixie dust to find your True Love for you, Regina, and I screwed it up." While Tink told the rest of the story Regina continued to hold onto her, and to wipe tears from her face when they continued to leak out of her green eyes.

As Regina continued to hold Tink it wasn't only about strength. This weakness that she allowed into herself when she admitted that she felt for the fairy's plight, this was a weakness that didn't make her feel vulnerable. It made her feel connected, and needed and like everything she felt might also be shared one day.

At last Tinkerbell turned so that she was sitting with her back to Regina, and was able to reach out for another drink. Regina still had her arms around her friend, and now she was able to rest her chin on Tink's shoulder.

"You know, Tink. As much as it fills me with wonder that you want to help me they way you do, really, just being here and being my friend, makes me happier than I can remember. You don't need to do anything more than that for me to feel you've brought me happiness."

At Regina's words a shadow seemed to pass across Tink's face, "Oh no, Regina. Don't say that. That's not it."

She said it again, more to herself than aloud: "That can't be it. I'm a fairy, and that's not how it's meant to work. Fairies don't do that stuff. That's not it."

So the young queen sat in a small town in her realm, and held a sobbing fairy and did believe, for the very first time in her life, that when she said, "It will be alright," that really, truly it might be.


	2. Chapter 2

part II

As the day faded to evening the queen and the fairy remained like that, Regina with her arms around her friend, holding her tight and close. Tink slowly calmed herself down, with a few more mutterings of, "it can't be" and "I _must_ have done it wrong."

"This is really nice, Tink," said Regina, finally freeing one arms enough to reach for her own drink.

"Ssh, Regina. Don't think about it; just enjoy it." So Regina did. It didn't feel like they needed to say much more. It had always been a sort of friendship in which the important part was that neither person had to be alone, rather than the depth of anything that was said, or any dramatic actions.

It wasn't until she was walking back to the palace that Regina's feelings of warmth and comfort began to show themselves to her in a different light. At first her thoughts were all of Tink, and of how _good_ it felt to have done something as simple as hold her. A week ago she'd never have thought that it might be pleasant to touch anyone. A week before that she wouldn't have thought it would be pleasant to talk to a near stranger for several hours. A month ago she'd never had an ale at a tavern.

That was when her thoughts changed. Everything changed the night she first met the little green fairy ... on the night that Rumpelstiltskin had been explaining about the Darkness. He'd told her that night that it wasn't her own choice whether or not the Darkness took her over. It was the Darkness that tasted her and chose whether or not to continue the relationship.

Through all the things that had happened to her and been said to her and done to her, Regina had always thought that what she chose to feel was something she could control. She could _chose_ to like magic, but could have _chosen_ to hate it. She could _chose_ to enjoy an ale or she could _chose_ to find little green fairies irritating.

If, once the Darkness had tasted you you couldn't get rid of it, was the Light the same? Had she, by opening herself up to Tinkerbell, by allowing herself to be soft and gentle, had she allowed Love in in some form? Was Love and all its ensuing weaknesses now winding its way through her body? Would she ever be able to get rid of it?

Oh yes, being with Tink was undoubtedly pleasant, but were a few afternoons in the sun worth a lifetime of having a heart that could be hurt?

Furthermore, Tink was a fairy. An almost-failed one at that. Who was to say that this feigned friendship wasn't part of some larger plan to bring her down? It was no secret that she, Regina, was hardly popular in the Kingdom. Why would some pretty little happy fairy chose to tangle herself up with wicked, wicked Regina Mills if it wasn't to do something nasty?

So Regina walked her way back to the castle with her head down and her feet pounding at the path, as if with every step back towards the high stone walls she was pushing herself further and further away from sun flowers and fairies and friendship in which she might not always win. Back at the castle she went straight to her magic room, and as she hoped, Rumple was there. He didn't look up as she entered but he said her name in acknowledgment, all the same.

Regina looked around the room, with its cold grey walls, and its long benches and shelves of mysterious potions and ingredients and she breathed in through her nose in a long, sniffing inhalation that brought into her all the possibilities that this room and this world of magic and the future she had planned for herself could bring.

"I won't be missing any more lessons," she told her master coldly as she turned and left the room in an enjoyable swish of her gown.

For the next week Regina attended to her courtly duties and in her free time sought out the source who could help her master her magic. When she needed to stretch her legs she returned to her habit of walking in the palace gardens. One afternoon there was a tea for neighbouring dignitaries and the Queen and princess were dressed in the jewels and spent the afternoon drowsily eating dainty cakes on the sun filled terrace. Snow kept her hands tightly grasping Regina's and went on and on and on about how pretty her gowns were and how romantic it was for her father, the King, to have chosen to marry Regina. The Queen kept her lips tight and thought of the choices she was making for her own future.

Despite the fact that it hurt something deep inside her to no longer escape the castle grounds and have afternoons with Tink, it didn't hurt anywhere near as badly as losing Daniel had. It was definitely better to rip oneself away from temptation early than to let it take a proper hold. The Light might have _tasted_ her, but she was not going to let it take over.

Meanwhile Tink spent a few days nursing an incredible hangover that brought with it a seemingly never-ending bout of misery: she had stolen, she had failed at magic, she'd failed to make Regina happy. Oh, she had utterly and completely broken a major tenet of being a fairy. Or perhaps she had.

Or perhaps she hadn't. Either way it was best not to dwell on such things. She was the fairy, she was the knower of magic, and she _must_ have used the pixie dust wrong. Probably. Really Tinkerbell had no idea what to do with the revelation she'd had that afternoon with Regina. Moaning over a headache and lunging for a bucket were almost welcome distractions from having too think too deeply about what the pixie dust might have been trying to show her.

As she began to recover the more immediate question was how any of it was going to be explained to the Blue Fairy. A fairy servant had come to her door one morning but Tink had hidden under the bed, which seemed to have done the trick. But that sort of thing wasn't likely to work forever.

On the otherside of the forest Regina was equally as anxious: possibly Rumple had been right for it did now seem that the Light had taken a hold of her. Regina sat at her desk trying to concentrate on learning spells but her mind – not just her mind, her _body_ itself – kept going back to Tinkerbell. As she sat on her stool in the dark, stone-walled room, she imagined the feel of another body there beside her. While a pot bubbled she could hear the convivial conversation of a tavern forecourt. As she lifted a glass of water to her lips she could feel - oh, she could feel another set of soft lips against her own. Regina dropped the glass and it shattered against the flagging with a noise that broke her thoughts.

Oh yes, she, Regina could chose. And she could _chose _to be happy.

In the end the Blue Fairy simply magicked Tinkerbell before her, stripped her of hers wings and dumped her ungraciously onto the floor.

Of all the indignities, it was the Blue Fairy's use of the word 'destiny' that annoyed Tink the most. She'd been born a fairy. She'd tried really hard. Had truly loved trying to do her job well. "I'm trying to help. I'm trying so hard. Queen Regina is just the sort of person who needed help." _Surely_ choice was still involved? You could be born a fairy, but you could make choices that got you exiled. You could see in pixie dust who your true love was, but you could decide that there were other more important things to pursue in a lifetime. Or not.

Tinkerbell climbed down out of her tree house, like any non-fairy being who couldn't fly would have to, and began the long walk towards the palace.

Regina was less than half way to the village when she saw the familiar shape of Tinkerbell coming towards her, and she too was carrying a small bag.

x-x


	3. Chapter 3

"Tink!"

"Regina!"

Despite their previous closeness, the two women didn't embrace, but the smiles on their faces as they approached each other on the forest path were genuine, until:

"Tink! Your wings!" Regina dropped her bag and hurried the final few steps to her friend. Tink stopped still while Regina circled her, her hands hovering over the blonde's shoulder blades.

"Oh, Tink," she said, more slowly, and more softly. "They were so, so beautiful."Regina thought of the fine gauze-like quality of the wings, and the patterns that had reminded her of a dragon fly. "Was it – was it your punishment for trying to help me?" The young queen was in front of Tink again by now and she looked into the fairy's eyes, seeking an answer (her feet were at an angle where she could easily turn and run, because this, this was why it wasn't a good idea to have people trying to care for you if you were the sort of person who got others hurt).

"It's not ... it's not what's _important_, Regina." Tinkerbell reached out and took one of the queen's hands. She lifted her eyes and made eye contact at last. "I'm not mad about it. It's not your fault, or my fault." Then, so quietly that it might have been the wind or the fieldmice and not a voice at all: _Please don't go._

Regina smiled nervously. "So, you mean you'd be my friend, even though you lost your wings for trying to help me?"

"Of course I would, Regina!" There was no hesitation in the fairy's answer. "Of course I would. I was coming to find you, wasn't I?" Even without her wings, the fairy was light on her feet, and leapt and hopped as she spoke. "Come on, Regina. We need to talk. And to drink."

As they walked together through the tall, green forest neither mentioned the break in their friendship, or that the other - unusually - carried a small bag. Their chatter was all of funny things they'd seen; Tink's hangover, Regina's trials with the princess Snow, and other usual things.

Back at the tavern it was harder to act as if nothing had happened. Regina sat with a drink in one hand, her eyes squinted against the evening sun and silently watched the long shadows play across the fairy's face. For her part, Tink fiddled with acorns that lay on the table and only looked up when the waitress came by to see if they wanted to order a meal.

As it got dark and the tavern patrons became rowdier Regina finally asked Tink if they should be heading off. This was it, this was it, this was it. She had left the castle, full of plans, but now Tink would say that yes, she should be going back to her treehouse, and she would stand and leave and walk away from Regina.

But Tink didn't say anything. How could she tell the precious person sitting opposite her that she didn't have a home to go to anymore - that the reason she'd been wandering in the forest earlier was because she needed to make a plan to get out of the Enchanted Forest, and to do it soon? (And that she hadn't wanted to go alone). Tink knew how to help other people, but giving herself advice was much harder. Okay, Regina wasn't rushing to go back to the castle, but maybe she'd misread the situation? She knew that she should just buck-up and tell Regina that she wanted to show her the pixie dust. Yes, if she showed Regina the pixie dust, then she'd understand.

As stars appeared it was the time that Regina should have begun to feel apprehensive. She would be being missed from the palace by now. If she went back soon, she could claim to have got lost, or fallen asleep. She thought of her soft feather-bed with its silk sheets, and then looked down at the hard-trodden dust under the tavern table. She thought of feasts of swan and exotic herbs, and then of the dry, overcooked mutton left over from their tavern meal earlier.

Tink sighed audibly and broke Regina's thoughts. Almost involuntarily Regina leant forward to tuck one of Tink's curls back behind her ear, and in that simple touch remembered that what had driven her from the castle that afternoon had not been just ideas, but _feelings._

"I, I – " Regina took a breath and began again. "Tink, I was coming to see you this afternoon because I wanted to talk to you about something." She ploughed on, not leaving room for the conversation to be interrupted, "I don't care about destiny and True Love - or about duty and power or family. I want to be happy, and I think I've worked out what makes me happy."

"Sssh. Regina," said Tink, in a stunned, almost-whisper. "What do you mean you don't believe in _destiny_ or True Love? You can't fight that sort of stuff, Regina. And I don't know why anyone would ever think that they wanted to. Fighting that sort of love just – "

The fairy reached out to touch her friend, but Regina drew back. "No, Tink. I don't care what some magic dust tells me. I mean I'm so grateful that you wanted to try and help me like that, but, listen to me, Tink. I've never had a friend before. And I've never been happy before. I can't imagine that there is anyone out that who could make me feel more alive and more at ease and more purposeful than I have during these weeks with you. I don't need love and marriage and all that crap – I just need _you_ and your friendship, Tink."

Tink was up on her knees and leaning over the table, "I don't want to tell you that you're wrong, Regina, but I've been doing a lot of thinking, too, and I would really like to show you something. It's a full-moon tonight, a perfect time to use pixie dust. Let me show you something. _Please_."

"I said I don't believe in it, Tink. I've told you not to waste it on me, and I meant it."

A loud crash of mugs and tin trays reminded Regina and Tink that they were in a public place, and a potentially unpleasant one at that.

"Don't be mad at me, please Regina. We need to talk. Come for a walk?"

Regina turned from the noisy crowd at the table next to them, back to the fairy, and held out her hand to the standing fairy. "Where will we go?" she asked as they passed the last of the town's houses and entered the shadowed forest. When Tink didn't answer, Regina continued, "it wasn't just the wings, was it? She's exiled you, hasn't she?"

Tink scuffed her boots in the dust. She didn't want to have to tell Regina about all the crap with the Blue Fairy. It had seemed so simple when she'd been going through it in her mind. Regina was meant to just watch the pixie dust, understand True Love and run off for a Happy Ever After. True Love wasn't meant to be this complicated, was it? She was a fairy. She meant to be immune to the draw of love. She was meant to be simply helping, not getting involved. She wasn't meant to feel this overwhelming desire to hold Regina tight and close and show her that happiness was something she deserved to feel. She wasn't meant to have this overwhelming desire to hold Regina out in front of everyone she had ever met and say, "Isn't she absolutely perfect?"

"Yes, I've been exiled, Regina. I have to go away. Far, far away. This forest can't be my home anymore."

Regina sensed the fairy tensing up. She hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable. If she didn't want to tell her what had happened with the Blue Fairy, then Regina wanted to tell her that she didn't have to. But she did want to know that there was a plan. She'd passed her own point of no return and this was it now: just her and Tink, here in the forest with the warm breeze and the stars appearing between the moving leaves and the smell of damp and the rustling sounds of a living forest. Right now this was perfect, but if neither of them was welcome in the land for much longer, they needed a plan.

"Wherever you want to go, I'll come with you," she said. It wasn't exactly a 'plan.'

Tink stopped walking and stood on the path in front of Regina. "Do you really mean that?" In the moonlight her smile lit her entire face and Regina remembered the overwhelming desire to touch and hold and _be with_ the fairy that had driven her from the castle in the first place. Oh, she wanted to touch Tink's smile, and hold her close and, and, and – all she could think to do, was reach out and take Tink's hands in her own. She would follow this perfect golden being to the ends of all the lands, and sleep on the ground and wear a cap of reeds and never eat anything but potatoes if that was what was required.

She didn't know quite what she was doing. It was all instinct, driven by cider or moonlight or some spell that the fairy had cast. Regina watched Tink's lips but she wasn't listening to what she was saying. It was like all her energy, all her attention, all her senses were filled – perfectly satiated – by focussing on just one part of the being in front of her.

Tink stopped talking and smiled back into Regina's smile. "You know what I'm getting at, don't you, Regina?" she asked at last. "You call it friendship, but really you understand."

Tink took half a step forward until her face was so close to Regina's that she could feel her breath on her own lips.

"Regina..?"

Tink had an advantage: she knew what the pixie dust said. Regina had an advantage because she was human, and knew how these things worked – didn't she?

Regina let her hands slide down Tink's forearms, to her elbows and then around her waist to pull the two of them together; touching from toe to hip to chest to... lips.

Tink's lips were soft and almost not even there; they felt like part of the night and part of the forest.

Regina's lips tasted mildly of cinnamon and apples with a sharp bite of salt.

There was no doubt that whatever it was, no matter how much it might seem odd to other people that she was kissing a fairy, to Regina it was the most perfect and natural and wonderful thing she had ever done. It no longer mattered what anyone else thought, because this was a decision she was making for herself and soon she – she and Tinkerbell – would be far, far away from the cruel rules and magic and intergenerational plans and plots of the Enchanted Forest.

"Can we do that again?" Regina asked, cocking one eyebrow and with her hands still around the fairy's waist, pulling her close once more.

"Okay, but first I want to show you something. Please let me show you the pixie dust?" Tink screwed up her face. She knew that Regina wouldn't be happy.

"Please, I know that you want to, but don't waste it on me. We'll need all the magic you've got left to get us somewhere safe."

"If my plan works, Regina, then we might just have access to a magic even more powerful than a little pixie dust."


End file.
